The Picture in his Mind
by MistressKitty-chibi
Summary: ObiWan waxes nostalgic about what could have been between him and Padme


Title: The Picture in his Mind

Author: Mistress Kitty (chibimistress)

Summary: Obi-Wan still dreams of her

Rating: PG

Category: Vignette, Obidala romance, angst

Spoilers: Takes place post-ROTS

The Picture in his Mind

The sun was just beginning to seep into the crude shelter, and already he was doubled over in agony, the otherwise soundless landscape invaded by the gasps and chokes between his sobs. A sloppy tear splashed onto the knee of what remained of his Jedi costume and released a mournful wail into the semi-dawn as he buried his contorted face in his calloused hands. He pushed the eyes of his physical self shut tightly and found a strange comfort in the desperate pull of his heart when she appeared; vibrant and smiling just as she had in his dream.

For that was all it had been. The memory was much too fresh, the wound far too deep for a prophecy or a vision to develop untainted by his conscious mind. In the dream he was far from this forsaken planet inhabited by the worst and most disgusting entities in the entire galaxy. Far from harsh sand and even harsher daylight, far from this place which now seemed well-suited to his guilt, his failure. It was fitting, it seemed, that his tears would fall to a moisture-less ground. He had put himself in exile here. He should have been hiding, trembling in fear, but instead, Obi-Wan was ashamed of what he had become and kept himself and the boy secreted away on an already desolate and secluded planet.

The place he saw when he closed his eyes was bright and cool and rich with flora and fauna alike. Water was abundant, and flowed there as clear as sky. Vivid green ferns and the slim trunks of trees surrounded a peaceful, quiet clearing. Tall grasses and delicate wildflowers were soft carpet for little feet.

In his dream, Obi-Wan was comfortable with himself, with his surroundings and felt a permeating peace that took a moment to fade when the dream ended. He found that he had an easy laugh and was free to play and rest, safe, clean and loved. Yes, loved. For she was there too. Perhaps the dream-place was she, an effort to extend her essence to all the far reaches of his mind. To say she was merely beautiful would be an awful mistake of understatement. Her hair had grown in the dream; her sable locks hung down past her waist much as they had in the earlier days. Laughter bubbled out of her like water from a fountain, her eyes closed gently with merriment and her dark lashes pressing against her fair cheek barely hid the vibrant life which glowed from within her.

She sat next to him, legs tucked to the side underneath delicate embroidered skirts. Her hands brought the warmth of sunshine when they rested lightly upon his chest or face. He was sprawled out next to her, at ease and relaxed. When they were not watching each other, they watched the children. Short, chubby legs struggled to maneuver through the grasses in a comical game of tag.

When, after several minutes of vain pursuit of his sister, Luke plopped down in defeat, his mother was immediately at his side, scooping him into her strong, smooth arms and holding him close. Leia smiled in victory and threw her tiny form down on top of Obi-Wan who groaned at the impact but could not stop the ready smile from forming once again. As he stood, Leia scrambled around his shoulders to ride atop them, and he took the few remaining steps and captured his wife's lips in a kiss. Leia reached across and pressed her tiny palm to her mother's head, and Luke attempted to bury himself in the pocket of space between them.

She tasted like honey. That, and the way it felt to brush his palms across her cheeks and sink his fingers into the silken locks of her hair, were the sensations that lasted longest. Somehow, Obi-Wan knew that the dream-place existed, and that she was indeed there, waiting for him. Waiting for the day when they would watch her children frolic in the filtered sunlight. The feeling burned within him like a twisted hope; like an ulcer that was slowly eating him alive from the inside. He twisted around the feeling, moaning in agony at yet another morning where the dream was just a dream.


End file.
